


Ferrari

by WOCK



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, References to art and art history, Slow Burn, car theft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WOCK/pseuds/WOCK
Summary: He hadn’t checked if there were any security cameras in risk of catching him, but there rarely were in this part of the city.The car was relatively easy to break into. It was almost like its owner had parked it there and left it unattended for the sole purpose of letting someone else take it. Like a loosely wrapped present.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. intro

**Author's Note:**

> This exists simply to satisfy my own imagination

“Meaningless! Meaningless!”  
says the Teacher.  
“Utterly meaningless!  
Everything is meaningless.”  
What do people gain from all their labors  
at which they toil under the sun?  
Generations come and generations go,  
but the earth remains forever.  
The sun rises and the sun sets,  
and hurries back to where it rises.  
The wind blows to the south  
and turns to the north;  
round and round it goes,  
ever returning on its course.  
All streams flow into the sea,  
yet the sea is never full.  
To the place the streams come from,  
there they return again.  
All things are wearisome,  
more than one can say.  
The eye never has enough of seeing,  
nor the ear its fill of hearing.  
What has been will be again,  
what has been done will be done again;  
there is nothing new under the sun.  
Is there anything of which one can say,  
“Look! This is something new”?  
It was here already, long ago;  
it was here before our time.  
No one remembers the former generations,  
and even those yet to come  
will not be remembered  
by those who follow them.

* * *

Doyoung stepped out into the dark street. The streetlights illuminated at regular distances down the road. The air was cold and humid, but not enough to make him freeze under the thin jacket he was wearing. It hung loose on him, hiding the shape of his body, making him appear bigger and broader than he actually was. Sitting down on the steps of his apartment the flaps of his jacket made for a softer seat than the hard concrete. The heels of his feet scraping against the rough surface of the steps.

It was fairly silent to be a night in the middle of the busy city, but he guessed most of the residents in the area had gone to sleep already; light only shining out through a handful of windows on the other side of the road. Only the sound of his own steady breaths being reaching his ears in the quiet. 

His stupid old about-to-break-down-any-minute intermediate stood parked not far from the steps of the apartment. It was a Ford Mondeo 1994 model he had inherited from his father. It was an ugly dark red colour. He didn’t even understand why his dad had bought it in the first place. Maybe it was considered cool and expensive once. He didn’t know; his knowledge in cars was lacking to say the least.

He felt around in his left pocket, searching for the feel of cold, smooth steel against his fingertips. He had developed the habit of carrying a keyring with a small locket attached to it. He got hold of it, took it out and let it rest in the palm of his hand. Doyoung studied it, traced his fingers over where his full name was engraved. The streetlight glinted off the silver surface.

Like a cold, placid statue, empty gaze into the black shadows of the street before him, he sat there feeling like a foreigner in his own body. He contemplated picking up his phone and calling someone. His brother. His mother. He didn’t know who. Loneliness was a stupid abhorrent thing.

He was just about to stand up from the ice-cold, wet steps when he heard a small clunk coming from his car. Whipping his head around to look at it, he felt his pulse quickening. He was easily scared, but not paranoid. He half expected to see a stray cat sauntering towards him from behind one of the wheels but saw nothing. No shadows, nothing out of place. 

His gut instinct told him not to move his eyes away just yet though. He looked at it. Closely. Heart racing, he realised the driver’s door was slightly ajar.

Both his mind and fingers were going numb. Silently he moved towards the car. The darkness outside and the lack of lights inside the car made it hard to see if something was going on in there. The hood of the car reflected the lights of the streetlights close by. He forced his muscles to move his feet one step forward at a time, even if a thought at the back of his mind told him to just turn around and walk back inside the door to his apartment. Nausea clawed at his stomach, threatening to push his dinner up and out through his mouth onto the pavement. His locket was still clutched tightly in his hand, but he could barely feel it.

The hair on his neck and arms stood high and he had to swallow before taking the last steps to the driver’s door. He could hear faint sounds of heavy breathing and rustling from within. There was a dryness in his throat and his hands felt heavy, but he opened the door wider and braced for possible impact. 

The back of someone’s head. Dark hair, pale skin. 

Some stranger sat crouched with his head down by the pedals, his hands stretched forwards. Doyoung noticed what he thought was a screwdriver stuck in the ignition. He expected shock to fill his his entire body like painful electricity in his veins, but it never happened, his mind too numb to process what his eyes were seeing. The door creaked slightly as he opened it wider, with white knuckles clutching at the window frame.

And suddenly the stranger looked right at him then, and the look in his eyes seemed to mirror his own feelings; confusion and panic.

It felt like something was pushed loose in Doyoung’s mind and finally he found his voice. «Are you stealing my fucking car?» 

The stranger straightened his back and hit his head right into the steering wheel.


	2. Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turning the improbability-barometer all the way up for this one

«What’s your name?»

If looks could kill, he would have been dead on the spot.

Taeyong had stumbled out of the car the minute the colourful stars on the insides of his eyelids had disappeared after the impact with the steering wheel. Now they both stood on the sidewalk facing each other, and he wondered why he hadn’t made a run for it.

«I am the one who should be asking that. You’re the one who tried to break into _ my car _ !» the boy in front of him said. 

He was right. How dare he show common decency and ask for something simple as his name when he had wronged him like that. He ached to roll his eyes.

«My name is Taeyong,» he said and held his hand out for him to shake it. Sharp, intelligent eyes looked down on it and then back up to meet Taeyong’s own eyes. 

He clearly didn’t want to take it, which was reasonable; not a lot of men would shake hands with their robber. Still, Taeyong didn’t lower his hand. He wanted to see if he held it up long enough, would he take him up on his offer then?

It seemed his suspicion of Taeyong’s outstretched hand only grew the longer he held it out. He seemed to think Taeyong was toying with him. In the end his eyes were mere slits, soft and dark eyelashes brushing against his cheekbones. 

«I’m Doyoung,» he said, «and I’m not going to shake your hand.»

«That’s fair.» He let his hand fall to his side. «Look-»

«I’m not gonna call the cops.»

Taeyong stared at him. This boy was not sane, he decided. This boy, with dark unruly hair and a look in his eyes that made Taeyong feel something gnawing in his chest. This boy whose car he had indeed intended to steal. Taeyong worried at the hem of his jacket with his fingers. 

Just moments ago the same hands were tinkling with the thin cables down by the pedals, the adrenaline of secrecy pumping in his heart. Long slender fingers with the nails bitten down far too short. Colourful cables gibing him small stings of electricity now and then. The darkness around him making it even harder for him to see and the job riskier to pull off.

If Doyoung didn’t want to call the cops on him, then surely he would want him to pay for the damages done to his car. 

«I don’t really care about what you tried to do, as long as I still have my car. It’s been a long day, okay? A long week even… You might not be in the best situation economically yourself considering you’re out here committing petty crimes, but judging by the clothes you’re wearing, I’d guess not.» He looked down at Taeyong’s leather Prada boots. Black. Bought two weeks ago in Cheongdam. «Listen. I just got an eviction notice three days ago. I can’t afford to pay the rent anymore, and I really don’t want anything to do with robbers or cops, all I want is to at least keep my car.»

He didn’t know if it was the aftereffects of the blow to the back of his head, but he saw stars glinting in Doyoung’s eyes, despite his tired posture and rumpled clothes. Guilt tore at him and a bitter taste filled his mouth. 

Usually on nights like this he felt like a villain, yes, but his actions were always justified, and his victims were nameless strangers that would never even know what his face looked like. He suspected the feeling of guilt that had settled at the bottom of his stomach now would live there out the week. His nth regret of the night was asking for Doyoung’s name. Striking up a conversation with someone who had just seen him illegally hotwire their car? Stupidity, yes, but it would have been a good distraction. Learning their name? Being told the consequences of his actions? Pure recklessness. 

He looked up at the towering apartment complex. He wasn’t going to lie; it looked like a dump.

Doyoung swallowed and was about to continue when Taeyong interrupted him.

«You can sleep at my place.»

«What?»

_ Taeyong, what the fuck?! _ He clambered to find the words to right himself. He really was coming off as a madman today. 

«You can stay over at my house... at least until you can get your own place to live again...» His sentence ebbed out unnaturally and he fixed his stare at Doyoung’s nose to hide the wheels working in his brain.

Doyoung stared at him, not like he had just offered him something way out of line, but more like what he had said was indecipherable and he was trying to understand it. «Uh… what?» He repeated.

_ Yeah, Taeyong, what?! Why had you even suggested that? You don’t know this guy. _ Taeyong didn’t answer him. He knew he had heard and understood exactly what had been said, and it was too late to take it back now. The silence that followed was heavy and awkward as Doyoung tried to figure out what to answer.

«What? Are you, like, serious?»

Doyoung, with a simple question like that, had managed to make him very conscious of how embarrassing the situation truly was for him. He had been caught, red-handed, with his head under a stranger’s steering wheel, screwdriver in the ignition and a now-forgotten putty knife in the driver’s seat. And now, to top it off, he had invited said stranger to live with him in his home. The thrill of the night had made him reckless.

His hands felt clammy. The others would laugh at him.

“Well, do you even have room for me? Just so you know, I won’t sleep in your bed or anything.” His eyes bore into his and he felt his cheeks redden.

“That’s not what I was trying to insinuate-… I- … Of course I have room for you, I wouldn’t even have considered it if I didn’t.”

Truth be told he hadn’t made a single consideration at all.

Small rain-drops had started splattering against the hood of the car, leaving tiny droplets shimmering in the streetlights, like diamonds. He felt the rain hitting the top of his head, but tried to ignore it.

There was a special heaviness to the night, like everything depended on what Doyoung would do about his offer. There were cars honking and yells of people in the distance, a man was walking his dog further up the street, there were real, breathing people moving around in the buildings around them, but it all felt so distant to him, like everything outside of the conversation he was having with Doyoung was a far-away dream, and this was the severe reality. The decision-making in front of him was reserved for special occasions only. It was like waiting for the results of your driver’s exam, or being ten and watching your mother decide your punishment after breaking her favourite vase. Ultimately, you had no say in what the end result would be. But unlike the results of a driver’s exam, the answer to this was a double-edged sword; if Doyoung decided not to come with him, they would part ways forever, and everything would be fine, except for the slight sting of disappointment Taeyong dreaded. If Doyoung did agree to go with him, he would be relieved of the weighting guilt in his stomach, but there was no saying things would go well, or if more damage would be made rather than good.

Doyoung’s face set as he came to a conclusion. He looked Taeyong in the eyes, then nodded. Taeyong’s heart leaped and he headed for the driver’s door. The ghost of a sigh escaping his lips before he knew to stop it. 

“Yeah, no, I don’t trust you to drive my car someplace I _ won’t _ get ambushed, robbed and killed.”

Taeyong halted. “What difference does it make who’s driving?” Their eyes met again, and this time Doyoung’s eyes didn’t seem as apathetic as earlier. 

“The difference is that _ I _ control the pedals and _ I _ control the wheel.”

Taeyong swallowed hard. He knew that inviting a complete stranger into his apartment was rather demented, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done it before.

* * *

Doyoung’s character could be described by an array of different words, one of them being ´cautious´. It was a habit implemented in him from young age, avoiding befriending the kids at school who were looking for trouble, not daring to look adults in the eyes. Staying away from parts of the city prone to violence and crime, always looking twice before crossing the street. _ Never talk to strangers. Dont go out alone at night. _ The advices given to him as a kid would follow him into his adult years, making sure not to leave the keys by the door, double-checking every time he locked his car. _ You can never know a stranger’s intentions _ . His extra efforts had never been fruitless.

The past few sleepless nights had desensitized him. Standing outside the building Taeyong had guided him to from the passenger seat, Doyoung wondered how his previous safety measurements had failed him so much. He had gotten this far from the safety of his old flat only because of the empty promises of a car thief he had met less than an hour ago. However, he found that he didn’t much care about what awful things might happen to him tonight; the sight in front of him obscured his senses and clouded his doubts even further.

This street was a bit better lighted than the one he lived in, and way better maintained; less bumps in the road and no trash on the pavement. Fancy trash cans were lined at regular intervals up the street. There were flowerpots hanging under the windows of the surrounding buildings. A small convenience store at the corner, closed at this time of the night, but the sign glowed low and steady in the dark. These were the streets of bankers and wealthy business men.

The house they had stopped closest to looked like it fit right in in a luxury house magazine. Five stories tall and huge glass windows covering the façade facing the street. A sleek iron staircase with bars for walls went up the side of the building leading to the different landings. There was even a balcony over the roof of the ground floor, girdled with a black banister. A house like this was a solid symbol of all the childhood dreams he had longed for. He imagined walking through it would be on par with eating dinner at Le Bernadin in New York, or sleeping at The Westin Excelsior in Rome, or flying first-class to Abu Dhabi. If his apartment complex was a dirty McDonalds, the apartment before him was a Michelin star restaurant that high-end celebrities and obnoxious politicians dined at. He wondered how he ever could have asked if there was room for him.

“Hold on,” Doyoung was starting to get dizzy, “I’m supposed to stay at the house of a guy I just met, the person who just tried to steal my car nonetheless, until I can get up on my feet again and find a new rotten apartment to live in?”

“If you like,” said Taeyong and slapped the roof of the car before he turned and walked towards the entrance.


	3. Compass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have edited the first two chapters now, and I will have this one edited too before the day ends

He awoke; rustling of fabric, sunlight streamed in from giant windows and stung his eyes. The room was bathed in white candescence.

Taeyong stood in front of him, his face in shadow, illuminated from behind, making the outline of his hair look like a halo.

Thinking of last night, Taeyong had seemed like a phenomenon born of his own wild imagination, that maybe the tiredness and the hunger had gotten the better of him and rendered his mind of every sensible thought he´d ever had.

His memories were a flurry. After they had entered the house, Taeyong, out of obligation had asked if he wanted food, and he had answered “no, I don’t want food, thank you,” and Taeyong had shrugged, but said nothing, then they went up the long iron staircase that never seemed to end, and still they hadn’t said a word, and Doyoung had wondered if Taeyong found it awkward, but his mind was too numb to ask, but they had stopped in front of a door on the fourth floor, and Doyoung was slightly out of breath from walking all those steps, and they stood so close together. _Did his breath smell like mint?_ And it was dark in the hallway, but he could see Taeyong in front of him, leaning in, whispering something about people sleeping and being careful not to make any sounds, and he had guided him inside the room and told him he could sleep in there, that the room belonged to someone else who wouldn’t come back until Friday, that they could figure things out again then, and then Taeyong had left him, and after that his consciousness had been short-lived and sleep engulfed him.

Taeyong, having drawn the curtains open, was looking at him, seeming to contemplate what to say. He looked even more awkward standing in front of him now than he had after getting caught last night.

“Breakfast,” he said. “Get dressed.”

Doyoung looked down at himself. The only thing he had removed before going to sleep last night was his jacket and his hoodie. He had slept in jeans and a t-shirt.

Taeyong picked his hoodie up from the floor and handed it to him. Silver rings sparkled on his fingers. They looked expensive, even though he couldn’t tell the difference between real and fake jewellery. His grandma had once tried to teach him how to tell if a penny was made of real gold or something else, but he hadn’t paid attention. She probably didn’t know any better than him and he wouldn’t ever have use of the knowledge; he didn’t own a single shimmery object.

Now that he was awake and rested, he could finally take in the appearance of the room he had been assigned to. Beige walls and peach curtains all the way to the wooden floor. A narrow bookshelf next to a desk with an office chair stood at the wall opposite from the bed, and a large wardrobe was built into the wall by the door. A few pictures hung on the walls here and there. There was some clutter on the desk and a jacket had been haphazardly thrown onto the back of the chair. It was rather nice.

But being rested and possessing a clear mind again also meant the absurdity of last night hit him harder than before. His heart started beating faster. A spark of anxiety found its way to him, but he crushed it, telling himself that this wasn’t really as serious or bad as he was making it out to be.

He had no idea what time it was, but he guessed maybe ten in the morning. He remained silent, not really knowing what to say. Leaving his jacket still laying on the floor he stepped out of the room. Taeyong lead the way down to the ground floor, to a grandiose kitchen combined with a breakfast area. The room exuded the same lavish feeling as the rest of the house; antique flowerpots in fine china, a chandelier with a hundred pearls in clear glass hung from the ceiling, even the plates and cutlery seemed expensive. Blue cabinets, surfaces in reflective bronze, a shiny fridge, warm wooden floor. It was as if it was pulled straight from an interior design magazine. What he had seen of the house so far seemed… eccentric, but in a cultivated, luscious way. Acting as an opposite from Doyoung’s perturbational notion of Taeyong’s character, an antipode to a criminal’s den. 

So far the both of them had kept quiet, but as they reached the cabinets Taeyong puffed a strand of hair away from his eyes and looked at Doyoung.

“Do you want some coffee? Tea?” He kept his doe-eyes trained on Doyoung´s face and his mind momentarily short-circuited. What did he usually drink back at the flat?

“Uh, coffee, thank you.”

Taeyong nodded and reached for to coffee mugs from one of the cabinets. Doyoung didn’t know what to do with himself and ended up fretting with the fraying on the sleeves of his hoodie, always being aware of Taeyong moving around him, but never siding up too close. He said yes to some sugar, but not milk; he liked his coffee a bit strong. Taeyong in contrast put three sugar cubes and around a gallon of milk in his before being content. Doyoung cringed, but Taeyong either ignored him or didn’t see it.

Taeyong made toast for them as well. The delicious smell of warm bread filling his nostrils, inviting him closer. He didn’t have a toaster back at the flat. _Damn, I should’ve bought a toaster._ Taeyong seemed far less impressed though, looking through the fridge searching for whatever he deemed good enough.

“Usually I would make a proper breakfast meal for a newcomer, but I don’t have that much time today. Tomorrow.” He promised.

Doyoung raised his brow at the insinuation that this was a regular occurrence. He looked Taeyong up and down. He wore a knitted leopard print sweater and dark blue pants in loose-fitting corduroy. Taeyong´s abundance of luxury annoyed him slightly.

They sat down on tall, round barstools around the kitchen island. The awkwardness and stupidity of the situation overwhelmed him again. His thoughts were whirring erratically around in his head, like flies hitting a window. At loss for what to do he took a bite of his toast, delicious as it was, the butter melting on his tongue. He chewed. The flies hitting the window harder as the silence was slowly killing him.

“Good morning,” he said. Taeyong looked at him like he had fallen down from a tree and cracked his head open.

“What?”

“Hmm… I just realized we never said good morning to each other. It’s polite.”

Taeyong stared at him for a couple of moments more, before muttering a short “morning” and continuing with his toast. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he took another bite. He chewed in a childlike manner. Doyoung knit his brows. _Annoying._

After a couple of minutes humming could be heard from the hallway and later some footsteps to come with it. A boy Doyoung had never seen before, barefoot and with tousled hair, entered the kitchen, shoved a scone into his mouth and exited again, only with a curt nod in Doyoung´s direction on the way out. Taeyong didn’t as much as look up from his toast, sipping slowly from his coffee.

Doyoung wanted to ask if the boy also lived there, but decided not to. He would figure things out later. The boy sure wasn’t in a hurry to find out who _he_ was. No, Doyoung had other things to think about.

“Uhm… If I’m going to stay here for a while…” He didn’t know how to get the proper words out. Taeyong looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I need my stuff.”

Taeyong looked pained for a moment, as if he had forgotten something awkwardly obvious, then the moment passed and he gave an embarrassed smile. “Sure, we can go get it later. I have and errand to attend to first though, but I’ll come get you afterwards.”

A second boy, this one younger and more awake-looking than the former, came sauntering into the kitchen with a book under his arm and rounded glasses perked on his nose. He smiled at them when he saw them, and his eyes transformed into crescents, but he was gone with the same speed as the first boy. Taeyong waved at him on his way out.

“He has to get ready for school.” He said, a small smile playing along his lips. If he took notice of the incredulous look on Doyoung´s face, he didn’t acknowledge it

They ate the rest of their food, the short time passing without any animalities, only their chewing and the occasional slurping filling the silence between them. It felt like a void. Was it going to stay like this? Taeyong didn’t seem particularly intent on sharing his thoughts, and Doyoung fell back into his previous state of confusion. If the boy sitting across from him at the table, munching on his toast like a ten-year-old, was going to have the vocabulary of a pantomime for the rest of his stay there it was sure to be hell. He knew they were practically strangers, but he had managed to keep up relatively interesting and lively conversations with strangers before, so why was this so hard? Sure, their relationship would improve, despite the bumpy start, and their words would flow smoother. But why would it improve? Did he want them to become closer? He had no plans of staying for long, this was only a temporary arrangement to appease Taeyong´s guilt-ridden heart.

Taeyong stood up, interrupting his chain of thought, and brushed imaginary bread crumbs from his trousers. “I´ll be back in a couple of hours, don’t worry.”

Then he left Doyoung and his dirty dishes at the table.

The kitchen didn’t have any windows, but neither was it needed; the small glimmering crystals in the chandelier mimicking the play of sunlight on the ceiling. Despite his earlier panics he found that the room had a calming influence on him. The fact that he, in a way, liked any of it unnerved him slightly. This wasn’t his, and he wasn’t there to stay. It felt like he was peeking in through the window, perversely admiring someone else’s home from a distance. He felt like an intruder.

Even if he was one, he thought that he might as well be a good intruder and clean up their small mess. He swept the crumbs in his hands and emptied them on the plates, taking the dishes around to where he had spotted the dishwasher earlier. 

As it turned out, luck really wasn’t on his side lately. The dishwasher was full of clean dishes that needed emptying, which abruptly put a curb on his plans, having no idea where to put any of it, and dreading having to open every single drawer and cabinet looking for the right places. He wished he had focused more on _where_ Taeyong had moved, instead of _how_ he had moved.

Another boy came into the kitchen, this one in a large knitted sweater with the initials HRJ on it. He was quite short.

«Where do I put the clean coffee mugs?»

The boy barely spared him a glance. «Top left cabinet, over the coffee brewer...»

He had lost count of all the boys he had seen walking around the house during the short time since he had arrived there last night. What was this, some sort of orphanage? A secret society of crime syndicates? Maybe Taeyong collected stray boys off the streets and he had been taken there to be their housekeeper.

A coffee mug slammed down on the counter in front of him. He blinked. Yet another boy stood before him, this one with stark intense eyes and a face to die for.

“Hi, I´m Yuta”

He had dark blond wavy hair that suited him well. He didn’t know what shone brighter; the array of earrings decorating his ears, or his teeth when he smiled. He had a cat-like demeanour; you can cuddle him, but he might bite.

Doyoung gave an awkward smile in return. This Yuta guy didn’t seem to mind that Doyoung, self-proclaimed intruder, was going through the cabinets in their kitchen, and neither did he seem to mind Doyoung´s awkward bearing. He had approached with confidence and fierce intent.

“You must be Doyoung,” not a question. “I´m going to show you around, cause my guess is that Taeyong didn’t, am I right?”

Doyoung nodded. “To be honest I don’t think the thought even occurred to him.”

Yuta gave a short laugh, and when he looked at Doyoung again there seemed to be a slight hint of approval in his face. So far, Doyoung´s interactions with Taeyong had been nothing less than stiff and clumsy, tumbling over words and movements, but with Yuta in front of him he felt slightly bolder.

The short boy in the sweater had disappeared, just like all the others. Doyoung looked back at the unemptied dishwasher.

“Don’t mind it, I’m sure someone will do it later.” And with that Yuta nodded towards the hallway and stalked out of the kitchen, with Doyoung following close behind and feeling a bit bewildered. 

* * *

“The room you just slept in belongs to Mark.” Yuta pointed towards the door to where he had slept that night.

Wandering around the house with Yuta explaining every little detail to him, which rooms were for what, who slept in which bedroom, always on the move, hurried steps and wide arm movements, he felt less like an intruder.

“Mark is Taeyong´s brother,” he said with raised eyebrows in Doyoung´s direction. He didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. Yuta always looked at him like he knew something he didn’t, which of course was true, but Yuta seemed entertained by his lack of information.

He continued: “Right now though, Mark is away and won’t be coming back until, like, Sunday.” It was currently Friday. “Don’t worry though, when he comes back, we´ll make some other sleeping arrangements, its not like we´re gonna kick you out or anything.” He winked.

Yuta didn’t tell him what Mark was doing, though, but he wasn’t sure he really cared.

Doyoung coughed. “Did Taeyong tell you how we met? Or why I’m here?”

Yuta turned his eyes on him, surveyed him for a minute.

“I didn’t mind asking. Thought I would find out sooner or later anyways.”

So Taeyong hadn’t told him. The whole ordeal was strange. No one seemed the slightest confounded by his sudden and inexplicable appearance at the house. If he was the one who ended up with an extra housemate out of the blue, he sure would have wanted some explanations, but that didn’t seem like the case with Yuta at all. Yuta really wasn’t the prying type; he was reluctant to ask anything about Doyoung himself, apparently letting it up to Doyoung to talk whenever he wanted, respecting his privacy. Instead Yuta had been the one to steer the conversation, talking in detail about a house Doyoung was only intending to stay at for a very short while. Introducing him to people he had no intention of knowing.

“I thought that maybe you were a damsel in distress, that Taeyong had fallen for you and taken you back to our humble home to court you.”

There was a baiting glint in Yuta´s eyes. He remembered reading an article about cats in National Geographic; that cats, even domesticated ones, are natural hunters able to stalk prey and pounce with sharp claws and teeth. Yuta liked teasing him, he had figured, after the little time they had spent together that morning. 

Doyoung decided not to answer and simply rolled her eyes at him, but he couldn’t help but notice the warming of his ears as he followed Yuta further around the house.

* * *

Somehow, coincidentally, they had ended up in the foyer by the entrance when Taeyong finally came back again. Despite his high spirit and the light atmosphere he had with Yuta, he felt a sense of relief when Taeyong entered the front door. A voice at the back of his mind had gnawed at him that maybe he had forgotten him. _Pull yourself together, it’s not like you missed him._

Taeyong came back in jacket matching his blue corduroys and a green beret on his head. It was quite a contrast to last night’s dark, heavy attire.

Taeyong spotted Doyoung first, then his gaze landed on Yuta. He took on a fake annoyed attitude, hands on his hips, rolling his eyes. Yuta only grinned and seemed more entertained than ever.

“Welcome home, your Highness. I`ve just been showing your damsel in distress here around the house while you’ve been gone. Turns out someone forgot to.” Yuta´s eyes sparkled mischievously. “We´ve been having quite a lot of fun too.”

Taeyong had the audacity to look both embarrassed and apologetic at the same time; pink dusted his cheeks momentarily, and Doyoung thought he was going to choke on pure air at the sight of it. _He´s so annoying._

“Just so you know, I didn’t tell him to show you around. I expected someone else to do it.” Taeyong looked at Yuta reprimanding.

“Johnny left.”

This time Taeyong rolled his eyes for real. Then he met Doyoung´s eyes and held his gaze for a couple of moments.

“Are you ready to go?”

“My jacket…”

Taeyong reached towards the clothing rack and took down a black shearling jacket. It looked way more expensive than anything Doyoung had ever worn. He handed it to him. “Just take this one. Lets go.”

* * *

White flaky paint on the walls and ceiling.

He didn’t own any furniture inside the flat. As it was, he had only lived there for about four months before the rent went up and he was unable to pay the money the landlord asked for.

He thought back to when Taeyong had asked him to come with him. It had been a moment of absolute desperateness, along with how tired he was from how little sleep he had been getting the nights before. The hunger and hopelessness had teared on him. The only thought that had occupied his mind; anywhere was better than nowhere.

He didn’t rush packing his bag, sitting on the floor of his bedroom with a small heap of clothing by his knees. If Taeyong felt impatient he didn’t want to know.

He looked up, out through the door and into the living room. Taeyong was slowly pacing the room, looking at what, he didn’t know. He had nothing of interest there.

They stopped to get cheap ramen noodles at a convenience store on the way back. A feeling that reminded him of being younger, a kid, sitting home alone on his couch and watching Pokémon and dubbed versions of American tv-shows. Hungry then as well; the only substitute for dinner being crispbread and dry cereal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I lied a bit abt the "enemies" part, they're more like regretful acquaintances tbh 
> 
> Also; thank u to those who gave kudos, mwuah!

**Author's Note:**

> I only have a SLIGHT idea of where I'm going with this, but bear with me!  
> pls give sum kudos xoxo
> 
> twt: @ weishenvillage


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